


Professor Malfoy

by floydig



Series: Professor Malfoy [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BAMF Harry Potter, Daily Prophet, Established Relationship, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Harry Potter Has A Lot of Scars on His Body, Harry Potter Raises Teddy Lupin, Husbands, M/M, Married Couple, Not angsty, Powerful Harry Potter, Professor Draco Malfoy, Protective Harry Potter, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Teddy Lupin was Raised by Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:13:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27197659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floydig/pseuds/floydig
Summary: Professor Malfoy is understanding, brilliant, and a complete hard-ass at times. Not to mention his wicked sense of humor and sharp tongue.Teddy Lupin and Professor Malfoy have a lot of inside jokes.No one quite understands how this is connected to Harry Potter until a certainDaily Prophetarticle is released....“Holy fucking shit.”“Harry Potter ismarried.”
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: Professor Malfoy [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1998388
Comments: 54
Kudos: 1334





	Professor Malfoy

**Author's Note:**

> I personally love the Professor trope. I had the idea for this and went for it. As per usual, it took a different turn than I initially intended, but I’m happy with the way it turned out. 
> 
> If you look at the tags, you can see that Harry’s many scars are a topic in this fic. They are **not** self-harm related. Still thought I’d put it out there for anyone who may not like this topic.

Professor Malfoy is a very _peculiar_ professor. In Jessica’s humble opinion, that is.

He’s an odd mixture of understanding, brilliant, and also a complete hard-ass at times.

Professor Malfoy also has a wicked sense of humor and a sharp tongue. He knows how to keep students engaged. He makes lessons interesting. Even when it’s a _“bloody ministry-mandated bland-as-fuck textbook reading”_ kind of day. Professor Malfoy’s words, not hers.

Not to mention that he’s fucking _gorgeous_.

Thick, white-blond hair and smooth, pale porcelain skin. Shocking grey eyes with long, thick, dark lashes. Rosy, soft pink lips. Slender build with lean muscle.

He always wears a figure-hugging button up tucked into _very_ form-fitting slacks with dress shoes. A crisp, black traditional wizard’s robe left unbuttoned over the top.

Jessica remembers a lesson back in fourth year with Professor Malfoy.

...

“Alright, today I thought I’d do you all a favor. You know, because I’m fucking kind and all that. I’ll be teaching you how to brew Blemish Blitzer.”

Professor Malfoy pauses and looks around the room, lips curving up ever so slightly.

He continues, eyes sparking with mischief, “Now if you’re clever enough, perhaps you can tell by the _terribly confusing_ name that this is a potion that gets rid of acne.”

The class chuckles and exchanges smirks, quite used to Professor Malfoy’s antics by now.

Professor Malfoy’s lips turn up even more as he looks at one student in particular, “Teddy— I’m looking at you— this potion could be especially helpful for you. And luckily, you don’t even have to be clever to know what I mean, do you?”

Teddy rolls his eyes and grins, “Oh fuck off, Draco.”

Professor Malfoy simply raises an eyebrow.

Teddy coughs a couple times, amused, Sorry- _sorry_ —I mean, _Professor Malfoy_.”

Professor Malfoy bites back a smile, “Five points from Hufflepuff.”

Teddy doesn’t seem at all bothered, just flips two fingers at Professor Malfoy when he turns to face the board.

“Five points to Hufflepuff for your nerve.”

...

 _Teddy Lupin_.

He’s kind of a celebrity by name.

His dad is _Harry Potter_.

Even today, the whole tragic story is all over the _Daily Prophet_ and in numerous books:

How Teddy’s birth parents died fighting in the Second Wizarding War.

Then esteemed war hero and Savior of the Wizarding World, Harry Potter _himself_ , was named Teddy’s godfather.

Harry Potter was so _young_ when it all happened. _Seventeen_. According to popular media, he had planned on helping Teddy’s grandmother raise him, but then she passed away a couple weeks after the war.

Harry Potter was left as the sole caretaker of the child at seventeen.

Media outlets love the story. Even fifteen years after the war.

And yes, Teddy Lupin and Professor Malfoy have this natural camaraderie going on. Everyone knows they’re related in some way. Some sort of cousins, Jessica thinks? The media always focuses more on Harry Potter and Teddy. Whatever it may be, Professor Malfoy and Teddy always seem to be in on a big inside joke.

...

And to be quite honest, Jessica’s not sure how the media manages to get all this information when it comes to the matter of _Harry Potter._

Harry Potter is a notoriously private individual. He sure as hell isn’t giving them any interviews. Still, someone always seems to be spilling the latest Savior Scoop.

Jessica knows a few facts for sure about the esteemed war hero’s personal life:

 **1)** Harry Potter primarily runs a group home for wizarding youth with difficult home lives. The home is called _Hedwig Heart and Home._

 **2)** He’s best friends with Headmistress Granger and her husband Ron Weasley, who co-owns Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. Sometimes she sees the three of them all eating lunch together in Hogsmeade with Professor Malfoy. It’s so nice of them to include him in that.

 **3)** He consults with the Ministry of Magic Auror Headquarters and sometimes even goes on missions with them. (She’s not supposed to know this; she overheard Ron Weasley loudly talking about it with Headmistress Granger when she was waiting outside her office).

 **4)** He guest lectures Defense Against the Dark Arts to 5th and 7th years twice a month. She’s actually seen him a few times on the grounds! He’s always wearing plain, worn blue jeans, tennis shoes, and either some sort of soft, cozy sweater or just a plain t-shirt that stretches quite nicely across his broad, muscular torso. He keeps his unruly dark brown hair in a loose, low ponytail. And don’t even get her started on his bone structure. _Fuck_.

 **5)** She’s heard that he’s an _amazing_ lecturer. Magic bursting at his fingertips. Super hands on and attentive. All about practical application. And very humble and down to earth. Her first class with him is supposed to be tomorrow. She just _can’t wait_ to meet him.

But unfortunately, that’s all Jessica knows for sure about Harry Potter. And it’s taken her years to compile this list on her own.

Thankfully, Jessica has an inside scoop now: her brother Andrew.

Andrew works as an intern for one of the _Prophet’s_ main reporters, a scrawny, greasy man named Z. Smith. Jessica learns all the latest gossip before it’s officially released. Interestingly enough, Andrew fire-called her this afternoon:

“Yeah Jessica, so this literally just happened an hour ago— I was just trying to explain to Mr. Z. Smith that they’re called telephones, not fellytones, when there was this huge commotion outside of his office. And it was fucking _Harry Potter_!”

“Wait, really? What happened?”

“Well I don’t know if you’ve seen the article yet...”

...

It all started this morning, when the _Prophet_ had published exclusive pictures of Harry Potter and Teddy having a lake day vacation at what was supposed to be a private, undisclosed location.

The pictures in question feature a laughing, relaxed Harry Potter lifting up a fifteen-year old Teddy with ease before dunking him in the water.

Harry Potter’s wild dark hair is pulled into a low ponytail and he’s simply wearing a pair of baggy, maroon board shorts. His muscular, broad chest and quite large, well-built arms are out there for everyone to see.

The pictures are very high quality as well, and anyone looking at them can plainly see the many scars and blemishes on the exposed upper half of Harry Potter’s body. The scars are all shapes and sizes, some deep and others shallow.

A large, sunken, circle stands out in the middle of his chest, skin pulled taut around it. Old and brown.

A smattering of smaller splatters spread across his chest around the prominent circular scar. Lighter brown.

Thick, jagged edges wrap around his left bicep. Raised, rose-colored.

An immense protruding bite mark across his right. Glossy, greenish.

Harsh, deep, ragged stripes paint his forearms. Shiny and white.

Tattered, long scratches extend the entirety of his toned stomach. Permanent pale pink.

Burn discolorations blot across the surface of his strong, broad back.They’re intermixed with thin, pale lines that go in all directions.

Everywhere. No skin left unblemished.

* * *

**EXCLUSIVE PICTURES: Our Scarred, Mangled Savior**

_Looks like our Savior doesn’t_ just _have the scar on his forehead. Love the muscles, but does the rest of him really have to be so mangled? You would think that he’d at least cover them up with a quick[Colovaria](https://harrypotter.fandom.com/wiki/Colour_Change_Charm). Poor Teddy Lupin, having to see all that..._

_Hopefully our Savior here can find someone who doesn’t shudder at his disfigurements. We don’t see a ring on dear Harry’sfinger. Tick, tick, Harry. You won’t be thirty-two forever._

**Z. Smith**

* * *

A loud commotion sounds from outside Z. Smith’s office.

Angry yelling ( _“Get the fuck out of my way, Skeeter!”_ ) and then a burst through Smith’s office door, “What the bloody _fuck_ is this shit, Smith?”

There stands Harry Potter, in all his glory, cheeks flushed and eyes blazing. Fury.

He slams the paper down on Smith’s desk, causing the wood to crack with the combined force of his magic and pure physical strength.

Andrew takes a minute to take a good look at Harry Potter. It’s not every day that one gets to see him up close in person, you know.

Harry Potter’s attire would perhaps be a bit amusing under different circumstances: Grey joggers, mismatched converse tennis shoes (one purple, one pink), and a thin, dark green t-shirt with the letter D on the front stretched tightly— _very tightly_ — across his muscular arms and torso. He’s used a purple scrunchy to pull his wild, dark brown hair into a half-hazard messy bun.

He’s breathing heavy and his bright green eyes are flashing in cold fury. Fucking _terrifying_. Andrew can feel the air crackle and pop around him with Harry Potter’s raging magic all around them. He doesn’t even have a wand out.

Eyes wide, Z. Smith gingerly rises up from where he’s seated. He shrinks under Harry Potter’s furious gaze and smirks tensely, “Now, now, Harry, that was my favorite desk, y-you know.”

Andrew notices that Z. Smith’s whole body is trembling ever-so-slightly.

“You think I _give a shit_ about your fucking _desk_?”

The desk splinters and snaps in half. It disintegrates into a pile of dust at Z. Smith’s feet. The “Our Scarred, Mangled Savior” article lies neatly face-up on top of it.

Harry Potter hasn’t even looked at the desk once.

He towers over Z. Smith and fixes him with a harsh, blazing glare, “Now that I’ve kindly removed your desk—”

He pauses and gestures roughly to the paper in question, “Pick that fucking shit up and read it to me.”

Z. Smith shakily looks down at his feet and slowly bends down, reaching out an unsteady hand to grab the article. Picks it up.

Harry Potter fixes him with a cold hard stare, coolly, “You really don’t want to keep me waiting.”

The air around them is electric.

Z. Smith’s eyes bulge. He tugs at his collar and wipes his forehand. He chuckles weakly. His voice is hoarse as he starts, “L-Looks like our s-savior—”

“The fucking title, Smith.”

“Oh-erm- r-right.”

A cough.

“That-That would be—”

A strangled breath.

“Our S-Scarred, M-Mangled Sav—”

“I changed my mind. I don’t need your whiny fucking voice grating on my ears. Skip to the reason why I’m wasting my valuable bloody time here today.”

Z. Smith looks up at Harry Potter, eyebrows furrowing, cheeks flushed, “I-I don’t—”

Harry Potter looks at him expectantly, bright green eyes hardened, “Go on with it. I’m fucking waiting.”

Picture frames on the wall start rattling.

“Erm- alright— d-does the r-rest of him really have to be so m-mangled—”

“Fuck no, Smith. I don’t give a shit about that part.”

Merlin, Harry Potter’s voice is so masculine, so rough, so commanding.

 _Fuck_.

Andrew snaps himself out of it. Now’s not the time to be lusting after the man!

He would almost feel bad for Z. Smith if the man wasn’t such a slimy, insensitive tosser. But seriously, he looks like he’s about to fucking piss himself.

“Um-”

“Tell me, why do you write this shit?”

“I—”

Harry Potter laughs humourlessly, harshly, “You want to know how I got all my scars? Because yeah, I’m sure you’d _love_ it if you could do an exposé on ‘How the Savior Got All His Scars: A Detailed Narrative of Each Disfigurement.’ ”

Smith’s mouth is half-open.

“Probably’d sell millions. But quite frankly, I don’t give a shit about what you want. I don’t owe you a bloody explanation. My scars— they don’t bother me anymore. I hardly even think about them. They’re just fucking _there_.”

He pauses, takes a breath, “And _Teddy_ doesn’t give a shit either.”

Smith’s eyes widen even further as if something is finally dawning on him.

“Got that, didn’t you?”

“I—”

He scoffs and continues, “Merlin, you _repulse_ me. I don’t give a fuck what you write about me, but we had an agreement, Smith. A _legally binding_ agreement that all you cruel fucked-up media outlets have been following until now.”

Smith’s mouth is opening and closing wordlessly.

“NO FUCKING PICTURES OF MY UNDERAGE SON.”

The picture frames burst and shatter.

“There are going to be consequences, Smith. My son is an orphan of war; this cruel, taunting article certainly doesn’t bode very well for you going forward. ”

“L-look, Mr. P-Potter, sir, maybe we can—”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“But—”

Harry Potter’s eyes spark and his lips curve up,“You know, I don’t think you’ll be needing your voice for a while, seeing as you have nothing useful to contribute to society.”

He turns to leave and pauses at the door, smirking, “Oh— and Smith?”

Z. Smith opens his mouth to respond but no words come out.

Harry Potter laughs grimly, “Oh, silly me, I forgot about that. Anyway, I was going to say— you should really do some more fact-checking.”

Smith tilts his head, brows furrowing.

“My _husband_ loves me, all the _‘mangled’_ parts of me.”

The door to Smith’s office is ripped off its hinges and erupts into flames.

...

“Wait— so that all just happened an hour ago?”

“Yeah, it was fucking wild.”

“And he— took away Z. Smith’s voice?”

“Sure seems like it.”

“And he set the door on fire?”

“Yep. And burst the picture frames. And disintegrated the desk.”

“All without using a wand or any spells?”

“Pretty much. Harry Potter’s fucking powerful. And terrifying as fuck when he’s angry.”

“Did he even know you were there?”

“Honestly, he was so focused on tearing into Z. Smith; I have no idea. He was _furious_. And so bloody fit.”

“I mean, rightfully so. That article sounds absolutely awful. He can’t help that he has so many scars. Are they really that bad? Or is the article exaggerating?”

“I mean, they were kind of... Everywhere? I think he’s been through a lot of pain. More than what the public knows, I mean.”

“Holy fuck. Now I really want to see that article.”

“That’s bloody messed up, Jessica.”

“You know what I mean, arsehole.”

“But what’s crazy is that he wasn’t even upset about the scars. It was how they included pictures of Teddy.”

“Yeah. He really cares about keeping him safe. Wait—”

“What?”

“Holy fucking shit.”

“Merlin, what?”

“Harry Potter is _married_.”

...

Well. That was certainly illuminating.

Jessica wishes she has more time to dwell on this new groundbreaking piece of information, but unfortunately she has to go to class.

Not _unfortunately_ , because it is Professor Malfoy’s class after all, but still.

Who in Merlin’s name is Harry Potter _married to_?

And where’s this bloody article?

...

Jessica walks into Potions a minute or two before class is supposed to start. She finds a seat and scans the room for Teddy Lupin. She finds him sitting up front near Professor Malfoy at his desk.

Teddy’s smirking and has his nose all screwed up like a pig snout. He gestures to it, then points to Professor Malfoy. Professor Malfoy’s lips curve up and he raises a perfectly arched unimpressed brow.

Typical.

Guess Teddy hasn’t seen the article yet.

Other students start filtering in, chatting excitedly to one another as they pull out copies of the latest _Daily Prophet_ and sit down. 

“Did you see—”

“Harry Potter—”

“His back muscles—”

“Teddy—”

“All those scars—”

Professor Malfoy doesn’t seem to notice that anything is amiss. His slender back is facing them and he’s turned toward the board as he writes down the topic for today:

**Veritaserum vs. the Imperius Curse: Which would win?**

Jessica sees Frankie Owens tap Teddy on the shoulder and hand him the article, her eyes apologetic.

Teddy’s eyebrows furrow for a second as he scans the title. Then he stiffens and goes pale.

 _Fuck_.

Professor Malfoy turns around and starts off, posh, commanding, “So today we’re going to talk about something that I think many of you will find fascinating: Veritaserum versus the Imperius Curse.”

He pauses to walk around his desk and lean against the front of it, “And what I mean by this is— what happens when a wizard is under the influence of both the Imperius Curse _and_ Veritaserum simultaneously? What sort of _truth_ will they tell? Now the answer lies in what one _believes_ to be true at the moment in which the question is asked. However—”

He stops. Many students are still whispering animatedly amongst each other and pointing at various pictures within the “Our Scarred, Mangled Savior” article. 

Professor Malfoy’s grey eyes narrow, “What the bloody _fuck_ are you idiots all mumbling about?”

“Sorry, Professor. It’s just that— the _Daily Prophet_ released a new article today.”

Frankie Owens chimes in helpfully, “It’s about _Harry Potter,_ sir.”

Professor Malfoy’s eyes widen ever so slightly and he smirks, “Oh, of course it’s bloody _Potter_. Tell me, what is it this time— ‘Harry Potter Gets a Haircut?’ ”

His eyes spark in amusement, “Merlin knows he needs one.”

Jessica glances over at Teddy; his eyes are squeezed shut, hands balled in tights fists on his desk. He breathes in through his nostrils and opens his eyes.

Frankie Owens continues, “Um-no, sir. The pictures are— well— they’re quite... _vivid._ ”

“ _Our Scarred, Mangled Savior_.”

It’s Teddy. He continues, rough, heated, “That’s what it says, Draco— _Our Scarred, Mangled Savior._ ”

He scoffs, eyes flashing, “And that’s just the fucking title.”

“ _W-What_?”

Professor Malfoy— well, Jessica’s never seen him like this before. Professor Malfoy is always so put together, so in control, so confident, so sarcastic and witty and sharp.

His mouth is half open, lips parted. Cheeks flushed and eyes wide.

He takes a deep breath in. His lips thin and eyes narrow as he reaches out a hand and wordlessly summons the article. He places it on his desk.

His voice wavers ever so slightly as he attempts a steady, controlled, “I would like everyone to take a few minutes to write down your thoughts regarding the matter of Veritaserum vs. the Imperius Curse. Be ready to share.”

He pauses to lock eyes with Teddy, “Ted—are you going to be alright or do you want to head out to owl Harry?”

Teddy chuckles grimly, “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m fucking pissed. But Dad would AK me if I skipped out on your lecture because of a bloody _Prophet_ article. You know how he is. That, and this topic is actually super interesting.”

“Alright, then.”

Huh. Perhaps Jessica should add Professor Malfoy to her list of Harry Potter’s casual friends. They do occasionally grab lunch together in Hogsmeade after all.

Professor Malfoy appears to be quite tense as he runs a hand through his hair and sighs. He walks back around his desk and sits. He picks up the article and tilts it slightly as he begins to read.

Professor Malfoy focuses on the page as he murmurs a barely audible, “ _Does the rest of him really have to be so mangled_...”

He pauses, scans the page, and slowly shakes his head before continuing softly, “... _Someone who doesn’t shudder at his disfigurements_...”

He pinches the root of his nose between his thumb and middle finger.

Jessica watches in fascination. Why is Professor Malfoy so affected? The _Daily Prophet_ publishes rubbish about Harry Potter every other day. Never ones quite so callous, albeit, but still.

Professor Malfoy turns the page to look at more of pictures. He lightly traces the long, thin white scars with a single finger. He runs two fingers gently over the many burn discolorations spanning Harry Potter’s broad, strong back. The _Prophet_ chose to have that particular picture take up the entire page, full color and motion.

“Fucking _disgusting_ , aren’t they?”

Professor Malfoy’s head snaps up.

Everyone turns toward the sound of this new deep, rough, warm tone.

Harry Potter _himself_ is smirking and leaning casually against the entryway to the classroom. His bright green eyes spark in amusement as he heads toward Professor Malfoy’s desk.

He’s wearing his mismatched shoes, joggers, and tight dark green t-shirt with a _D_ on it. Unruly hair in a messy bun.

Professor Malfoy’s eyes widen slightly and he blinks a couple times. Then his body relaxes and his lips curve up a bit. He rises out of his chair, pushes it in, and takes a step back, “Well. I definitely didn’t expect _you_ to stop by, Potter. Should have told me earlier.”

He pauses and his lips turn up into a small smile, eyes teasing,“I could have _prettied myself up_ for you.”

Harry reaches the side of Professor Malfoy’s desk. He places his hands on the edge and leans over it, green eyes sparking with mischief, “Pretty sure we’re way past that, Professor. And besides—”

He looks Professor Malfoy up and down, smiles softly, relaxed, “You look pretty fucking good.”

Two spots of pink appear on Professor Malfoy’s cheeks and he rolls his eyes. He opens his mouth to respond, but then his eyes darken and he looks down at the article on his desk.

Harry Potter notices and snorts, “Saw that rubbish, did you?”

Professor Malfoy’s lips purse and he scoffs, “I just found out about it. They could have at least gotten your relationship status correct. Just because we don’t wear our rings, honestly. It’s been eight fucking years.”

Harry grins sheepishly, “I may have stormed Zacharias Smith’s office earlier today.”

Professor Malfoy smirks, amused, “Good. He’s repulsive”

Harry laughs, “I told him that, actually.”

“I expect you to tell me about it later. I want to hear all the bloody details.”

“I’ll pull out the Pensieve tonight.”

“Um-Professor? I don’t mean to interrupt, but we’re all finished writing.”

Professor Malfoy startles and looks over at all the students, “Oh, right. Now—”

“Wait, you have a class going on right now? I though they were just in here hanging out. _Fuck_. Shit, I mean—”

“Merlin, Harry. You didn’t even notice your arsehole son over here.”

Harry’s eyes widen as he straightens up and registers the thirty-nine pairs of eyes staring dumbfounded at him, “Oh Fuck.”

Teddy grins and waves, “Hey dad.”

“Er—Hi Ted. Sorry about the article.”

Teddy scowls, “Zacharias Smith is a fucking arsehole.”

Harry frowns, “Language.”

Teddy rolls his eyes and shakes his head, laughing lightly, “Coming from _you_. You and Draco both.”

Harry bites back a smile, “Alright. Now it’s time for class. I’ll head out.”

“Nah, Dad, you should stay!”

Professor Malfoy clears his throat, amused, “Actually I’ve decided to cancel class for today. We’ll pick up where we left off tomorrow. Thank you for your patience, everyone.”

Harry Potter looks Professor Malfoy up and down and smirks, “That’s a _great idea._ ”

The fifth-years all look around at one another and sigh in disbelief. Harry Potter is right here! In the flesh! And he’s married to _Professor Malfoy_? How did they all miss this?

Harry looks around the class and gives an easy grin, “Well, before you all go, I should probably introduce myself real quick— so-er- hi, I’m Harry, Ted’s dad and Draco’s husband.”

He gives an awkward little wave and then gestures to an exasperated Professor Malfoy, who’s shaking his head and watching Harry fondly.

The students watch all this with wide eyes.

Harry Potter continues warmly, “I actually guest-lecture DADA here, and I’ll be teaching you all tomorrow! See you then!”

...

The students reluctantly filter out ( _It’s bloody Harry Potter! Standing in our classroom! Merlin!)_ until Harry and Draco are the only ones left in the room.

Professor Malfoy is nowhere in sight; now he’s simply _Draco_.

Draco shrugs off his crisp wizard’s robe onto his desk chair and unbuttons the first few buttons on his dress shirt. He sighs and lets his shoulders slump, “Let’s go home, Harry. I could really use a long hot bath, and I was hoping you’d join me.”

Harry gives him a relaxed grin, “That sounds perfect. Takeaway?”

Draco gives Harry one of his private smiles, “Absolutely.”

He pauses, brows furrowing slightly, “But before we do that, I...”

He trails off.

Harry waits patiently for Draco to gather his thoughts.

Draco takes a breath, voice gentle yet firm, “Come here and let me hold you.”

He reaches out his arms expectantly.

Harry laughs and nods a couple times, “Yes _please_.”

Draco wraps Harry in a warm, strong embrace, his arms around Harry’s muscular torso, his slender hands rubbing slow, soothing circles on the latter’s broad back.

Harry buries his face in the junction between Draco’s neck and shoulder. He lets out a shuddery breath, completely relaxing in Draco’s arms as all the tension of the day melts away.

Murmurs, “I really needed this.”

Draco smiles a touch sadly, softly, “I’ve been wanting to hold you ever since I heard the title of that callous article.”

He feels Harry tense, then relax.

And quietly breathes into Draco’s neck, “It’s fine, Draco, really. You know that shit doesn’t bother me. Not anymore. I was furious about the pictures of Ted, though.”

Draco continues gently rubbing Harry’s back. Murmurs, “I know. But it’s still difficult to see them talk about you like that. They have _no idea_ what...”

He trails off. And then slowly, still so gently, places soft, nimble fingers underneath Harry’s t-shirt.

Warm fingers lightly trace physical reminders of a childhood cut far too short.

...

Eventually they part.

“Let’s go home. That hot bath with you is sounding better by the second.”

“ _Yes_. And burgers from _Belinda’s_?”

“ _God_ , I love you.”

“Draco’s fine. I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Just to be clear: I **do not** share the same views of body scars expressed by Zacharias Smith. The article is intended to be cruel and outlandish. 
> 
> Also, the “Veritaserum vs Imperio” argument is based on a tumblr post I saw a while back. 
> 
> With that said, I really hope you all liked it! Depending on the reception, I might write more in this “Professor Malfoy” verse. I especially loved writing the interactions between Teddy and _“Professor Malfoy.”_
> 
> Come say hi to me on [tumblr](http://floydig.tumblr.com/) if you want xx


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